


Secrets

by GulJeri



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Friendship, Love, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 12:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2310452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GulJeri/pseuds/GulJeri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garak tells Julian secrets. *note that there is no character death warning for reasons*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> There is no character death note for reasons. Song lyrics are Secrets by One Republic. References to Stitch In Time are made.

I need another story

Something to get off my chest

My life gets kinda boring

Need something that I can confess

'Til all my sleeves are stained red

From all the truth that I've said

Come by it honestly I swear

Thought you saw me wink, no

I've been on the brink, so

Tell me what you want to hear

Something that will light those ears

Sick of all the insincere

So I'm gonna give all my secrets away

This time don't need another perfect lie

Don't care if critics ever jump in line

I'm gonna give all my secrets away

  
  


Of course I came right away when I'd gotten the letter.

Garak and I had had our highs and lows during the long course of our friendship but we had always come back to each other as if we couldn't quite pull ourselves out of each others orbits—even when I remained on the station and he was able to return home to Cardassia.

Garak had written me many letters from his home, even a very long memoir, which I've read through many times in contemplating the man who even after bearing that much of his soul to me remained an enigma. I also contemplated quite a few times his open invitation at the close of the writing for me to come and visit him.

I did visit a few times but I felt strange and out of place on Cardassian soil, especially once that questionable peace treaty had been reached between the Federation and the Cardassian Union.

But this letter had me on a shuttle as fast as my feet could carry me.

Garak, my dear friend, was dying.

As a genetically enhanced human being I have had the privilege (cue sarcasm) of seeing most of my friends pass on. I've outlived so many of them—all of the Terran ones—some of the alien species as well.

Just another little treat I can thank my parents for.

Now it was Garak.

When my feet hit Cardassian soil my legs were trembling. I could only hope that I wasn't too late as I made my way through the city and towards Garak's home.

He'd rebuilt his own home upon the pile of destruction which had been his childhood home. The garden he grew outside was an outstanding tribute to the mans talent with plants and it never failed to stop me in my tracks each time it came into view.

Within the garden he had little monuments—for Mila, Tolan, and Tain. He kept the garden as immaculately tended as he did his clothing. Garak was not himself if he didn't have something to fuss over. I'd always found the juxtaposition of Garak as a fussy, flouncy, flirty tailor and gardener to that of a hardened, down and dirty, kill-or-be-killed, spy to have been one of the most fascinating contrasts I'd ever come across.

Perhaps the Garak who ran a shop on the promenade was a merely a constructed cover in order to seem harmless—after all he'd always said as much--'plain, simple, Garak'. But if it truly was a cover then he wouldn't need it any longer and each time I'd come to visit him he was still that man. A more likely scenario was that the tough-guy had been learned over the years and built from necessity and survival instinct.

After reading Garak's memoirs that seemed very much the truth—though with Garak it's never easy to tell. The choice to become a member of the Obsidian Order had never been his but he had become who he needed to be in order to do his job well and to survive it. I wonder if left to his own devices what would have become of my friend? He would probably be what he chose to be in his retirement... a tailor, a gardener, a tinkerer.

The last time I'd visited him he'd seemed more relaxed and content than I'd ever seen him before and that had done my heart some good.

This visit, I knew, would do my heart no good at all.

I paused outside the gate and took in the beauty of the botanical oasis which was Garak's garden. I dreaded going into that house to see my dying friend but Garak had called on me.

I opened the gate and my feet lead me along the path, up the stairs, and I knocked at the door several times. Each time there was no answer my heart thumped harder against my sternum. I called out for him and there was no answer. Panic was tightening my chest. I tried the knob and the door slid open easily.

“Garak?” I called out.

A moan drifted down the stairs and I hurried taking them two at a time and grateful that my genetic enhancements kept my legs from feeling the touches of age as of yet.

I slipped into Garak's room and took in the form that was curled up beneath a blanket. Garak struggled to sit up in his bed and I propped some pillows behind him and helped him.

His grayish skin had gone a sickly, muddy color, his intelligent eyes were dull, and his mouth was painfully cracked at the corners.

“You came,” Garak said weakly, using those cracked lips to smile at me.

“Of course I did,” I answered, “now you're going to tell me what's killing you and I'm going to fix it.”

Garak managed a chuckle.

“As self-assured as ever, my dear doctor,” his tongue peaked out to wet his lips, or to scent the air, or perhaps both.

“Well you can't expect me just sit here and watch you die,” I retorted, my mind set on trying to save him.

“Of course not, doctor. I didn't invite you here for that at all. I've asked you here for a more...” Garak paused, a wince of pain crinkling his face, “oh—for a more—active role,” he finished, letting out a sigh when the pain edged away.

I took his hand in mine. His skin was clammy to my touch.

“What do you need of me?” I asked.

“The Shri-Tal do you know what that is, doctor?”

I shook my head, but then I remembered; I'd read about it when Garak had loaned me that Cardassian novel  _The Never Ending Sacrifice_ . That seemed like an eternity ago and I was hit with a sudden sharp pang of remorse for the time I'd wasted. 

Garak had always pursued me, his wish for something to bloom beyond our friendship was never a well-kept secret, but it was one that I ignored time and time again. I wondered briefly how things might have been different had I given him that chance—but such analysis of paths that might have been taken didn't do any good.

“I remember what it is. It's a Cardassian death ritual in which the dying person chooses someone who is very close to them, usually a family member, and tells them all of their secrets.”

“Very good doctor,” Garak sounded impressed, and for some reason, that brought a sheen of tears to my eyes.

“And you've chosen me?”

“Don't seem so surprised. Who else would I have chosen? I've no family. Please... my dear doctor... _Julian..._ would you...?”

“Yes,” I answered without hesitation, and gave his hand an encouraging squeeze.

In the next few hours I met a man who was so very tired. I listened to a man who had grown weary of his past, of the things he had done, of the things he had witnessed, of the secrets upon secrets that he had kept for so long. Many were things that had to do with his work for the Obsidian Order. A few personal ones were peppered in here and there. Sometimes we stopped because Garak's emotions overwhelmed he so thoroughly that he could only weep. I held his hand, I stroked his black hair, on a couple confessions I even found myself crying with him. It was painful to know all of the things he'd had to bear alone for all of these years. My admiration for him had grown tenfold by the time he seemed to be nearing the end of his lengthy confession. Such strength; I never could have survived under the pressure.

Garak's eyes were spidery red and swollen. His grip on my hand had tightened. His pause now was so long that I thought perhaps he was done after all.

“Garak?”

“There's one more thing, doctor. A personal secret that I must confess to you, and then...”

I nodded.

My thoughts drifted back briefly to when Garak had had the trouble with that cranial implant. He'd told me several different versions of the same story.

_But which one was true?_

_They're all true, my dear doctor._

_Even the lies?_

Especially _the lies._

Today I had learned so many truths that I longed for the lies. I longed for the elaborate stories. But there would be no more.

“I've come to realize that I'm a sadistic man. I fall in love with those who will not have me,” Garak said, a smile hinting at his lips, “I wrote to you so many years ago of Palandine and my unrequited love for her. But there was someone else too and I think I've grown to miss him, and to cherish him, the most.”

His eyes met mine and the indication was obvious. My throat tied itself into a knot and I couldn't speak.

“If I were to somehow—miraculously--live through this illness,” a pause for a bitter laugh, “I would ask him again to join me here. I'd ask him to stay. He must be lonely too after so many of his friends have gone, and he remains.”

Tears slid down my cheeks and I nodded.

“Very lonely, and I would stay, Garak. I'd stay with you,” I held his hand now with both of mine, regret causing my tears to continue.

I bent to press a kiss to his cheek, and his free hand found the back of my head, and kept me from straightening up so quickly. He turned his head so his lips were near to my ear and he whispered.

“There's one more thing, doctor. One more...” I could feel his tongue dart out once again; it almost touched my skin, “in the top drawer of my dresser you'll find a hypospray. Give it to me.”

He let me go and I went to the chest and sure enough it was there.

“I don't think that's really a secret, Garak. You just told me where something was,” I held up the hypospray, though my heart plummeted. I was certain it must contain something that would end his life quickly and painlessly to delay the suffering and though I could appreciate such things and had even administered them before... this would be the most difficult hypospray I had ever given.

“The secret is that it is... an antidote.”

My eyes grew wide and I hurried to his bedside.

“What? You've had this all along and just...” I didn't finish, I pressed the hypo to Garak's upper arm and pressed down the plunger, “I don't understand, Garak. Why on Earth would you bring yourself to deaths doorstep when you had the cure right here the entire time!”

I was oddly relieved and irritated with the man at the same time.

He grinned at me.

“I've waited a long time to unburden myself; I was exhausted of the wait. I needed to tell you. The only way I could purge myself of all of these things was the Shri-Tal.”

I clutched the empty hypospray tighter.

“Wait a minute—you're not trying to tell me you were dying _on purpose?”_

“What's wrong, doctor? You don't admire my resourcefulness? I was under the impression that you always had.”

Garak sat up a bit more now. The hypo was already working to relieve him the self-induced illness.

“I'll tell you what I think of you, Elim Garak,” there was anger in my voice—I was angry that he'd gone this far with his deceit, but still that relief of knowing he was okay was washing over me as well, and my eyes were wet as they met his, “you're—you're--”

Words do not often escape me but on this occasion they had so I used my mouth for something other than speaking.

I kissed him.

His hands reached up and those strong fingers carded through my graying hair. I was surprised at how right it felt.

“Does this mean you'll stay?” Garak asked, as our mouths parted.

I pressed my forehead to his, nuzzling his ridges.

“Yes,” I answered, “I'll stay.”


End file.
